The Enchanter and The Lion

Chapter 15 - Return to Haven

Maeve had spent the journey back to Haven in almost complete silence. Varric had tried to crack her shell, but she just couldn't snap herself out of it. Fiona had opened old wounds, wounds she thought she had long ago dealt with despite the lingering nightmares that disturbed her sleep. 

Cassandra eased her horse alongside Kizi as they rode south toward Haven. "I know Varric has been trying to make you feel better, but I don't think you need stories and jokes right now. If you want to talk about it, I am here for you."

She smiled wearily at her. "It was a long time ago, Cassandra. And it doesn't really matter, not anymore. I don't know why her words have bothered me so much. But, thank you. It means more than you know to have friends."

As Haven came into view, her spirits started to brighten. She realized that a large part of that was the thought of seeing Cullen again. She had written to him once while in Val Royeaux, but had not gotten any response. She had not seen Cassandra get any correspondence either, though, so it was likely that he was just busy. She knew she really shouldn't feel this way about him, not after what happened with Andrew in Ostwick, and especially not with those scars freshly opened by the Grand Enchanter, but she couldn't help herself.

They deposited Sera, an elven archer and member of the secret society called the Friends of Red Jenny who had joined them in Val Royeaux, with the quartermaster to get settled. She and Cassandra walked into the Chantry together and found Josephine, Leliana, and Cullen already walking toward them. Her eyes went to his face immediately. Something's wrong, she thought, the smile that had started on her lips falling quickly away. His expression was strained, his face pale and a sheen of sweat could be seen on his brow. 

"We heard of your encounter," Josephine said.

At Cassandra's questioning look Leliana replied, "My agents in the city sent word ahead, of course."

"It's a shame the Templars have abandoned their senses, as well as the capital." Cullen said tersely as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Lord Seeker Lucius is not the man I remember," agreed Cassandra. 

"I'm sure not all in the Order will support the Lord Seeker. We can still convince some to join us," he added wearily, rubbing the back of his neck. She noted the tremor in the hand as he lowered it to grip the pommel of his sword. Oh no, Maeve thought, recognizing what she was seeing in him.

"Or, Maeve could simply go to the mages in Redcliffe," Josephine said. 

"You think they're more united? It could be ten times worse." he interjected angrily.

"Lord Seeker Lucius was quite clear that he had no interest in working with the Inquisition," she said. "Despite my...reservations about working with Fiona, she's at least willing to talk about helping us."

"Reservations?" Josephine asked. 

"The delegation from Ostwick, myself included, broke with the Aequitarian fraternity and voted against the Grand Enchanter's secession from the Circles. We wanted change, but not at that cost. Still, even though Fiona and I don't exactly see eye-to-eye, I'll leave for Redcliffe tomorrow." she replied. 

Cassandra nodded as she, Josephine and Leliana moved toward the council room to finalize plans. Maeve noted Cullen hanging back and heard him mumble an excuse as he turned the opposite direction and quickly exited the Chantry. Her brow furrowed as she turned to follow him. She got outside just in time to see him walk around behind the building and out of sight from anyone.

She followed and found him doubled over in pain against the wall. "Cullen!" she hurried over to him, reaching a hand out. 

He waved her away, "You shouldn't be here."

Her brow creased with worry. "I know the signs of lyrium withdrawal, Cullen." 

His eyes shot to her face and she wasn't sure if she should be pleased that she had guessed correctly about what was ailing him, or not. 

"Knight-Commander Aldrick was not kind to those who disobeyed him," she elaborated, remembering the times he had withheld lyrium from the Templars under his command as punishment. Cullen clenched his jaw as he stood and looked away.

"Why?" she asked. "I thought we had a reliable supply for the Templars and mages that had joined us. Why are you doing this to yourself?"

"Because I will not be bound to the Order, or that way of life any longer. I will not be their tool," he ground out between clenched teeth.

"Cullen, I respect that, but this could kill you!" 

He laughed ruefully, "It hasn't, yet. I stopped when I joined the Inquisition. It's been months."

"Then at least let me help?" she asked, moving forward with healing magic ready at her hands. 

"Don't!" he said, grabbing her wrists in his hands and stopping them in mid-air. He watched a brief flash of fear cross her face that was quickly replaced by determination. 

"Cullen!" she said, forcing him to meet her eyes. "Please, let me help." It was the same tone she had used with Will; gentle, insistent, pleading.

He stared into her eyes; kind, open, worried. He didn't know if it was the withdrawal burning away the last bit of will he had to resist, or something else, but he slowly released her hands. 

She placed them gently on either side of his head, palms against his temples and closed her eyes in concentration. He caught his breath, but wasn't sure if that was from the tingle of magic against his skin or the fire that the touch of her hands on him set off. Maker, help me, he thought, I've never wanted anyone like this.

His migraine started to fade, and with it went the nausea and sensitivity to light. He took a deeper breath and finally unclenched his jaw and his hands. His head slowly fell forward in exhaustion without him realizing it, and his forehead came to rest on her shoulder. 

"Cullen, you're burning up," she said feeling the heat from his forehead even through her clothing. She dropped her left hand to her side and called frost magic to her right hand to make it colder. She gently placed it on the back of his neck and held it there. 

He huffed out a shaky breath and closed his eyes. He breathed her in; the leather of her armor, the smell of the air after lightning, and underneath that vanilla and honeysuckle. His left hand drifted to her hip of its own accord and he started to pull her closer, filled with the sudden need to hold her against him fully. He turned his head toward her neck, bringing his lips close to her skin, needing to taste her.

She gasped and stepped back, breaking their contact. His eyes flew open in time to see another flash of fear cross her face before she was able to regain her composure. 

"Is that better?" she asked lightly, trying to calm her panicked breathing. 

"Yes. Maeve, I'm sorry...," he started. 

"No, it's my fault," she said looking hastily away. "Excuse me."

Cullen watched her hurry away and back around the corner of the building. He leaned back against the wall and looked up at the sky. He felt sick to his stomach again, but this time it had nothing to do with the lyrium withdrawal and everything to do with the thought that he had caused her discomfort; had made her afraid. Maker, what have I done?